The Crooked Gulch
by BeneathAWesternSky
Summary: Anette Louiselle is hiding her identity in South Dakota when the New Monroe Republic begins to expand its borders. The Plains Nations are slowly being overtaken as the New Monroe Republic exerts its dominance, and Anette Louiselle is caught in the middle of the struggle. Through her struggles, her new relationship with General Sebastian Monroe is complex.
1. Chapter 1

**The Crooked Gulch**

Chapter 1

The sun shone brightly through the windows that lined the side of the classroom in which Anette Louiselle taught her lesson on the Emancipation Proclamation. She spoke clearly and concisely about the struggles of the War Between the States, gesticulating with her hands as she walked down the center row of desks that split the classroom in two. The students seated followed her every move with their eyes.

"It is surprising, then," she said, "that not thee days later, the president signed off on the mass execution of thirty-eight Dakota men. The largest mass execution in United States history." She paused. "Let that sink in. The country that was fighting to give freedom to an entire race of people could still look at Indians as less than human. I want you all to think about how this applies to you in your lives. Not literally, but… Your words are only as strong as your actions. Class dismissed."

Students rose from their desks and gathered their belongings. Anette taught a class on history to young adolescents who chose to come. Long gone were the days of compulsory school. Anette vaguely thought of how schooling was before the blackout, and how youths today had no idea what a luxury an education was.

As she smiled and said her goodbyes to her students, she noted the darkly clad individuals standing in the hall. The students veered out of their way as they exited the classroom, shooting glances over their shoulders as they made their way down the hallway. Anette took a breath to bolster herself before who-knows-what came along with these specters.

There were three in total, only one of whom spoke.

"Anette Louiselle?" the highest ranking of them spoke in a deep voice, his dark brown eyes framed in frown lines. Anette thought briefly about playing dumb.

"Uh," she faultered. Clearing her throat, she spoke more forcefully, wishing to command an air of selfassuredness. "What can I do for you?"

"I've been sent to convey a message from General Monroe."

For the past four months, General Monroe's men had been present in South Dakota, aggressive at first in their presence, and as of recently, deceptively diplomatic.

"Yes?" Anette crossed her arms, wishing not to show her discomfort.

"You're wanted by the General. He wishes to speak with you."

Anette furrowed her brow. "Is there something wrong?"

The captain huffed, "I couldn't say one way or another. I think the fact that you're not being brought to him in handcuffs is sufficient to assuage your fears, miss."

"Right, well… When?"

"Tomorrow at eight."

"In the morning?"

The captain shifted, indicating he was gearing up to leave. "Yes. I advise you arrive on time. The general does not wait." Without a word further, the captain and his two silent underlings turned heel and left the classroom.

Anette's heart beat faster in their absence. In the four months of the New Monroe Republic's presence, not once had she been spoken to by any of the higher ranking officers. Suddenly the general wanted to speak directly to her.

_I knew this setup was too good to be true_ she thought, chastising herself for choosing South Dakota. What choice did she have but to show? Not showing would be a red flag. She steadied herself and prepared mentally for whatever may come the next day. If there was ever a time for Anette to prepare for a performance, it was now.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Crooked Gulch**

Chapter 2

Anette sat in her kitchen, fully dressed, a mug of loose-leaf tea on the table in front of her. The sun had not come up yet, and she sat quietly contemplating what would happen in the next few hours, a royal blue light illuminating the kitchen walls. This was her favorite time of the day, but she could not bring herself to enjoy it.

_I could still run_, she thought, finally taking a sip of her tea that was no longer scalding hot. Still, she stayed glued to her wooden chair. She picked at a hangnail that had formed on her thumb, and willed herself to leave it alone. Unable to stay any longer and do nothing, she put on her tan suede and wool lined coat, pulling her long, dark brown hair out from inside the jacket.

Outside she mounted her mare, Copper, and set out for Sioux Falls, where the New Monroe Republic militia had set up camp. It was a good hour's journey if the horse were going at a slow, walking pace. Unwilling to push her mare and show up way before schedule, Anette watched the sun rise as she listened to the clopping of Copper's hooves.

Her stomach tied in knots as she neared the militia camp in Sioux Falls. Reaching a stall to tie up Copper's reigns, she dismounted and secured her horse. Copper quickly set about drinking from the water trough in front of her, and Anette turned to make her way through the tents set up around main street. A lot of the buildings that had been standing before the blackout were turned into apothecaries, and hospitals—if you could call them that anymore. One of Sioux Falls' crowning glories stood proud, and unmarred. The courthouse, a beautiful Romanesque building, had been miraculously preserved in the chaos that followed the blackout. It also happened to be the building that General Monroe had been using as his living quarters for the last four months. He had killed a Lakota clan leader to take up residence there. Anette knew the man personally. The thought of it made her blood boil, but she set the feeling aside for later. Now wasn't the time for that.

Nearing a tent with an open flap, Anette entered and cleared her throat. A clerk at a small table looked up from behind half moon spectacles. _This man definitely doesn't fit the militia mold_, Anette thought_. I guess someone has to handle the books_. Before the kindly looking clerk had a chance to speak, the same captain that had unpleasantly visited her classroom the day before interrupted him.

"Miss Louiselle, you're to come this way," he said brusquely, and showed her out of the tent.

Anette was led into the courthouse, and was taken to the top floor, where she was asked to hold her arms out for a pat-down. Pressing her lips firmly together, she lifted her arms, despite her strong desire to tell the guard at the door where exactly he could stick it. After she was confirmed to have no weapons on her besides the pocket knife that belonged to her father, she was allowed inside.

"You'll have this back when you leave," the sour faced captain said as he pocketed the knife. The doors were opened, and she was led into a room that had been warmed by a fire. The original construction of the building did not include a fireplace, so a new stone fireplace had been built near a window, which served as a makeshift chimney.

Her eyes drifted from the new masonry to a curly haired man sitting at a broad wooden desk, writing intently with a fountain pen. Considering him for a moment, Anette's stomach gave a small lurch. The exact nature of this feeling unnerved her, and she swallowed to steel herself.

Behind her she heard the resounding thud of the door being closed. She whipped around in surprise to find that she and General Monroe had been left alone. Turning back around, she looked at Monroe and silently begged for him to speak.

"Thank you for coming, Miss Louiselle," Monroe said, eyes still fixed on his paper.

Unsure what to say, Anette stayed silent.

"You surely know why I've asked for you to come?" His tone sent ice to Anette's stomach. His blue eyes finally shot up to meet her dark amber colored eyes. She was sure it was over at that point.

Finding her voice, she spoke, "I can't say as I do, general."

Putting the pen down beside his work, the general stood, tugging on the bottom of his black cotton and leather jacket. He made his way from behind the desk, over to a set of chairs, a sofa and a coffee table sat. On it was a porcelain tea set. He gestured to the sofa, indicating he wished her to sit.

_Oh, just say it already_, she thought.

She sat nervously on the sofa, but tried to not give too much of herself away. She held his gaze.

"Coffee?" the general stood, pouring himself a cup.

Coffee was hard to come by up north. She hadn't had a cup of coffee since her eighteenth birthday. She guessed the general hadn't gone that long since his last cup.

"Yes, thank you." He poured her cup, and she took it. Before taking her first sip, she hesitantly asked, "You were saying, general?"

He had been studying her face as she took her first sip of coffee. "Yes, I was. I've been made aware of your actions, Miss Louiselle." He paused to gauge her reaction, which she refused him the satisfaction of having.

"It's been brought to my attention that you have been teaching American History in your small village. Because you must be a learned woman, I won't insult you by assuming you haven't heard of the war between Texas and the patriots. What I want to know is why, after these events, you've deemed it prudent to teach seditious history."

Anette tried to hide her relief. Her mind raced as she searched for an answer.

"General I…" She began. "I don't teach American History in a seditious manner. I have never considered myself a patriot. My people have been happy in the absence of the United States. I assume you can understand why."

The general stood from several feet away, drinking his coffee before it grew cold. Half finished, he set the cup down in front of Anette, and sat close to her, facing sideways. He lounged coolly, arm over the back of the sofa, leg propped up on the other.

"You're Sioux?" he asked, prodding her along on her explanation.

"I'm Lakota, yes." She said, strongly. "General, I teach history to students who come of their own accord. I think it's a natural curiosity, to wonder about the past, especially since none of them were alive before the blackout. And most of my students themselves are Lakota. They want to know their history too."

The general sat, studying her face. Unnerved, Anette suddenly became very interested in the contents of her cup, and looked only at her coffee ask she continued to speak, wishing to fill the silence.

"General, I assure you none of us are patriots."

"You wouldn't mind then if there is a militia presence in the school." It was more a statement than a question.

Anette nearly stood up and stormed out at the thought of armed men in her classroom.

"You see, I have no reason to take your word in this matter as truth." Monroe was resolute.

"What kind of presence?" Anette said through her anger, attempting to mask it as best as possible.

"A representative of my choosing will occasionally come in, unannounced and observe your lessons. Question students."

"Who am I to refuse?" Anette lost her taste for her coffee, and set it beside Monroe's. "I will accommodate your representative in what ever way I can. If only to prove to you that there is no seditious behavior occurring in my classroom. I ask though that after you are satisfied, you will discontinue a militia presence in my place of learning."

"I will consider it. Thank you, Miss Louiselle." The general, satisfied with Anette's acquiescence, rose from the sofa and walked towards his chair at the large oak desk. "You may take your leave."

Anette rose, and spoke not another word. With her hand on the doorknob, she was stopped in her tracks by Monroe's voice.

"Oh, and Miss Louiselle. You wouldn't happen to know of a man named Raymond Redcloud, would you?"

Anette gripped the handle, and willed herself to turn to meet Monroe's gaze.

"No, general. Should I?"

"As you know, Miss Louiselle, there are bands of Sioux men and women across the Plains Nations that have given my militia… some trouble. If you know where I might find this man, it would be in your best interest to tell me."

"I'm sorry I can't help you, General." Anette left the room, trying to ignore the vaguely amused look that was on Monroe's face as she closed the door behind her.


	3. Chapter 3

The Crooked Gulch

Chapter 3

"Everyone, calm down," a clear voice spoke over the murmur of the crowd.

Anette raised her hands, and waited for silence. The room full of people eventually stopped speaking, and allowed Anette to address them.

"So far, it seems that the Republic is grasping at straws. However, General Monroe did ask me about Raymond. Now, I know that none of us are sure of his whereabouts right now, but I must ask that you inform your children to remain tight-lipped about any association with him, moreso for your protection than for his."

A woman in the front with black hair, accented by thousands of silver strands, spoke calmly, with her hands grasping the opposite arm, more for comfort than for warmth, "Anette, you can trust that our children will be smart, but what about you?"

"What about me?" Anette asked.

"What if they ask about you?" The crowd's murmur picked up again.

"You tell them exactly what you have been telling them. I am teaching your children. I have cousins here in Elk Lodge, and before I came here, you're not sure where I was. Anything more and you tell me."

Anette sighed her herself. "I know I've put you in a dangerous position. I do thank you for all that you have done. If it appears that my presence puts you in harms way, I will leave. But I will not leave you if I don't have to."

And it was true. Anette wouldn't leave her friends, her tribespeople, if she didn't have to. She did once, and it was the worst time of her life. But she was aware that her own selfish desire to cling to childhood days and innocence were folly.

Anette watched the window of the door to her classroom for three days, apprehensive about the visitor she knew would darken the doorway any time. She had lost her appetite since her meeting with General Monroe, and only been able to stomach bread and butter. By the time a member of the militia showed up, Anette was almost relieved that the wait was over.

A young man about her age peered through the door and let himself in. Stopping her lecture, Anette addressed her alarmed looking students about their new visitor.

"Class, a member of the Monroe militia will be present periodically, but there's nothing for you to be fearful of. Just pretend he isn't here."

The man with curly, black hair smirked at her announcement, and made himself comfortable at the back of the room, hands clasped behind his back, leaning against the side wall on his right arm. He had a cool and cocky air about him that Anette didn't like. Trying to not let her lecture about the Fort Laramie Treaty of 1868 be derailed, she picked up where she left off. She ended the day's lesson a little earlier than she would have normally, but wishing to get her students out of there as soon as possible, she pushed her luck as much as she could.

Before the students were able to leave, the young man in the back spoke with authority, "Miss Louiselle, if I may, I'd like a few of your students to stay behind so I can speak with them."

Anette looked upon her students with pity. She picked the two most mature boys she had, and let the rest of them go. "Jason, George, would you mind staying? The rest of you may go." Eagerly, the rest of the students rushed out the door faster than they normally would have.

Jason and George looked as if they wanted to protest, but before they _could,_ Anette spoke gently to them, "It's alright, you're not in trouble, I promise. Isn't that right…"

"Major Bennett." The young man had yet to introduce himself.

'So young to be a major,' Anette thought with some suspicion.

"If you'll just wait outside I'll speak with them alone, Miss Louiselle."

Locking eyes with George and Jason, Anette sighed and let herself out into the hallway, closing the door. It must have been half an hour before the young Major dismissed the two boys. Anette stood up from her slumped position against the wall, and walked towards the doorway.

"Miss Louiselle, if you'll just step inside, please." Once inside, Anette found that the desk that was normally behind her desk was now in the middle of the two rows of desks that faced each other. "Take a seat."

"I'd rather not." Anette, defiantly crossed her arms, and supported her weight on one hip.

"I must insist." Major Bennett broadened his stance, and Anette decided there would be no arguing with this haughty officer.

As a sign of her distaste for the whole situation, she sat down in a huff, and crossed her legs and arms.

After some time of the major walking around her, considering his first question, he spoke, "Miss Louiselle, do you like teaching here?"

"What kind of a question is that? Of course I do."

"Then I must urge you to be as truthful with me as you possibly can, else your days here are numbered. How long have you been teaching here?"

Anette's heart beat faster. "A year, give or take."

Major Bennett nodded his head and stopped directly in front of her, "and where were you before you settled in this village?"

"What concern of yours is it?"

"Oh it most definitely is my concern," Major Bennett said. "You see, my father's position here depends on the activities of those in the realm of the New Monroe Republic."

"Your…"

"Yes, Miss Louiselle, General Monroe is my father. Then you understand why I am concerned for his safety and the security of the Republic."

"I…" she began. Well that explains the early promotion, she thought. 'Nepotism is a hell of a thing' Anette thought with disdain. "Canada." That was all she was willing to give him.

"I see," the general's son crossed his arms. "And in your time in the Kingdom of Canada did you ever meet a man named Raymond Redcloud?"

Anette licked her lips. "That's the second time I've been asked, and for the second time I'll say it, I don't know a Raymond Redcloud."

"Miss Louselle, do I look like a stupid man?"

Anette considered the question for a moment, desperately wishing to reply with a resounding yes. She fought the urge. "No, I can't say you do."

"You see, when I have a hunch about a person, I'm generally right. I happen to think you're lying."

"I'm sorry you feel that way, major, but my answer remains the same."

The major smiled a toothy grin. "I thought you might say that. In that case, Miss Louiselle, please understand if the Monroe Militia sticks around in this little hamlet of yours for a while longer." Wishing to leave on a high note, the major left Anette sitting there in her own chair. She sat there for a good ten minutes shaking.


	4. Chapter 4

The Crooked Gulch

Chapter 4

**_September of 2016, Winnipeg, Kingdom of Canada_**

_**Four Years After the Blackout**_

_It was an instinctive move. She'd done it a million times, most often when she was nervous or when she was deep in contemplation. Anette reached up to grab the braid which she had draped over her shoulder, and twirled it in her fingers. At this point, Anette wasn't thinking much of anything. A vague sense of numbness had enveloped her, as if she were in a balcony, watching a play on a stage. A part of the performance, but only as a spectator, which was ironic, because it was, after all, her wedding day._

_The adults in the room were speaking, she knew that, but she simply didn't register what they were talking about. Some ten men were gathered around a large oak table, signing a single, long piece of paper. Half were people she didn't know. The other half were people she would come to know soon enough. She studied the faces of her brother, her uncle, her cousin, and two war chiefs of her tribe. She wished at this moment she had a photograph of them all. Why didn't she have a photograph? She had meant to grab one of the photos taken before the blackout, but in her haste to leave, it slipped her mind._

_"Anette," a voice broke her trance. Rousing herself, she looked at her uncle._

_"Hmm?"_

_"Are you ready?" Her uncle's eyes were framed in lines created over the last four years. He had shouldered a terrible burden. He had raised her and her brother for the last three years. He dared not betray his own emotions on this day. He told himself it was not defeat. It was an alliance. He was never a very good liar._

_"Yes," Anette stood, and walked towards her uncle._

_"We just need you to sign, little bird," her uncle's term of endearment made Anette's eyes well up. She blinked back her tears. She knew what was expected of her. She would hold up her end of the bargain._

_Taking the fountain pen in her hand, Anette approached the table where the treaty rested. Before she could bring the pen down to the line she was supposed to sign, she locked eyes with him. The man who would, in a matter of minutes, be her husband._

_His dark blue eyes locked onto hers, and she quickly cast her gaze down to the paper. She could feel the blood drain from her cheeks. She was, after all, only sixteen years old. She had only begun to be interested in boys, and had even less experience with men._

_She signed her name with trepidation. After her name was signed, she let the pen fall from her hand, and looked to the man who'd crowned himself a king. She had not heard much about him. He was impossible to read._

_In a blurry few minutes, Anette had agreed to her marriage in a very fast and unassuming ceremony. There was no kiss to "seal the deal." This left Anette both relieved and disappointed._

_As was customary, the Sioux band who had followed Anette's family in the fight against the Canadians, feasted and celebrated the union of the King of Canada, and such a beloved daughter of the Sioux. Her father had been a war chief, and she was herself a descendant of the great Sioux figure Crazy Horse. In the years following the blackout, the Sioux, among other tribes of North America, had begun to return to their traditional culture. Anette's family had been well respected because of the leadership roles they all filled._

_Along with traditional culture being revived, the rules on marriage had been loosened as well. Anette being sixteen was untraditional, and would have been uncouth if not for the fact that their marriage established peace between the white Canadians and the Native Americans that made up both Canada and the Plains Nation. Her people had been fighting tirelessly under the oppression of the Canadian King, but her uncle was able to broker a treaty under which the Sioux were allowed to maintain some form of autonomy while still being subject to the Canadian King's rules when under his domain. Anette was young, but she was mature enough to understand that she was a bargaining chip. As long as Anette were with him, the Redcloud family would instruct the other Sioux bands that they were to stop their acts of aggression against the Canadians._

_Anette had sat next to her new husband the whole evening. Anette had eaten little of what had been prepared for the festivities. She knew what would follow at the end of the evening. It left a pit in her stomach. However, his demeanor began to change from what she had seen in the meeting hall. He was no longer silent, but had complimented her traditional regalia, saying she looked lovely, and asked her light questions fit for mixed company. This eased her fears only slightly._

_Anette would steal glances at her husband. She thought he was not an unattractive man. He had a noble air about him. He had salt and pepper hair that was long enough to need to be brushed out of his eyes, but she thought to herself he looked much too young in the face to have such silver hair. She thought perhaps he was in his early thirties._

_It seemed like the night dragged on and on, and by the time the fires began to die down, Damian Boulard, Anette's royal husband, took her hand and helped her to her feet. "If you will, Anette, I think we should make our leave."_

_He even spoke like a king. Not daring to look at the faces of her family members out of embarrassment for what she knew they knew would follow, she allowed herself to be led away by her husband. Once they were behind the closed doors of the manor that was offered up as a temporary home by a Winnipeg aristocrat, Anette truly felt alone._

_Behind the closed doors of the bedroom, Damian Boulard showed Anette more kindness than she had expected to receive on her wedding night. He approached her with a warm smile on his face, putting both hands gently on the sides of her neck. He leaned down and kissed Anette on the cheek._

_"You've been so nervous all night I could almost feel your nerves vibrating off you."_

_Anette took in a breath of air and nodded, relieved that he was even aware of her feelings. "Yeah. You caught that huh?"_

_"I don't ever want you to feel uncomfortable with me," Damian backed up, and walked towards a table opposite the fireplace. He began to undo the buttons of his military style coat, no doubt reserved for the finest of occasions. It was almost completely black, but trimmed in gold piping in a few areas. The buttons were a matching golden color. He poured himself a glass of whiskey at the table, and stood staring at the fireplace._

_Anette swallowed, bracing herself, and did what seemed to her to be the right thing. She took from her hair the beaded hairpiece that a woman in her clan had made. She set it at the foot of the four-poster bed, and shook her hair out. Her heart raced with anticipation. Seeing her do so, Damian put his glass down, and before she knew it he was standing again in front of her, seemingly towering over her. He tilted her chin up with his hand and kissed her lips, this time with an entirely different intent._

_"Not tonight," he said, after kissing his young bride. "Not yet. When you're ready."_

_That night Anette learned how tender and kind her husband could be. She was thankful for it. She thought to herself that night, while sleeping next to her husband, that this might not be the worst thing that could happen to her. She could even maybe come to love him eventually._

_It would be another two years before she saw the side she came to hate so much, which, even years later, would wrench her from her sleep in tears._


	5. Chapter 5

[Dear readers, I apologize for the delay- the holidays get the best of me! I've had this chapter written for a week or so but am just now getting to publish it.]

**The Crooked Gulch**

Chapter 5

Sebastian Monroe rubbed his temples behind the desk he had called his for the last several months. It had been almost a year and a half since he had begun putting the pieces of the Monroe Republic back together. It had taken an enormous toll on him. He wasn't even sure it was worth all the effort. There he sat, looking at a newly rendered map of the political division of the North American continent. The old Monroe Republic was mostly under the control of the New Monroe Republic, save for states like Maine, Vermont, New Hampshire. Pennsylvania was a wasteland. Looking to set up a new capitol, Bass had settled on Chicago. It was still metropolitan enough that he felt civilized when he was in his own capitol, but it also opened up his militia's range of motion. He now looked westward towards the Plains Nations and hoped to expand his territory. He was amazed at how quickly clans fell, but not surprised that after they did, clans began pledging their fealty to the New Monroe Republic.

The only groups within the Plains Nations that were giving the militia trouble were the Indians. The blackout had given them all the chance to revive their cultures, taking up hunting and resuming semi-nomadic lifestyles. They were protective of their regained sovereignty. Bass understood that, he really did. But it was no longer about securing the Republic for himself. He had regained his son's trust after what happened in Texas—painstakingly. He wasn't about to lose it over some merry band of Indians.

This was what brought him to South Dakota. By far the most powerful of all the tribes had been the Sioux and all their factions (Lakota, Redbud, Santee, among others). And they had offered by far the most resistance against the changing political tides. After interrogating several Chickasaws and Apaches, Bass had discovered his weak link. The Redcloud family. He just had to be sure before he could act on his suspicions.

Bass's attention was diverted from the map that seemed like a blur from behind his mounting headache when the door to his study was opened. His son strode in, easily carrying in his stride the ego of two men. He was his son, alright.

"Dad," Connor said, inflecting the word with mocking affectation.

Bass sighed, and stood, carrying with him his third glass of single malt whiskey. "Well?" Bass had his fingertips on the table, the other hand raising the glass to his scruffy mouth.

"I spoke with her," Connor paused for effect. He didn't need to. Bass looked at him with impatient eyes.

"I'm fairly certain it's her."

"What makes you so sure?" Bass regarded his son with that cold expression of his.

"The kids I talked to told the same story as everyone else in Elk Lodge. It's too perfect. Not a single one of them has told any differing information."

"That's an admission of guilt?" Bass swirled his drink in its glass, looking to the bottom of it.

"They really seem protective of her. It's odd for someone who's only been here a year. And I can't seem to get a straight answer out of anyone when I ask who her cousins in town are."

Bass nodded, setting the glass down and walking out from behind the desk. "I agree with you. And if our sources are correct, she may have more value than the immediate future may imply."

"Meaning?" Connor was intrigued.

Bass sat down in the corner of the sofa in front of the fire, the brightest light source in the room and only source of heat in this frigid climate. "Meaning," he said, running his hands through his hair in exhaustion, "she needs to be brought in. You need not know any more than that."

"It would be my pleasure," Conner said. "When do you want her?"

Bass pulled his crystal glass to his lips and paused, considering. "Tonight."

Anette sat wedged between two armed men in the front of a horse-drawn carriage. Her hands were bound at the wrist, her skin chilled where metal met skin. Silently she chastised herself for not leaving sooner. For even coming to Elk Lodge in the first place. She hadn't gone without a fight though. She'd fought well enough on her own, but against four men who each easily had at least fifty pounds on her, her fight was short-lived. Gingerly she felt at the place just below her right eye were a bruise was now starting to form. She tongued the place on her lip where it had split.

"Don't touch it, it will only hurt worse." Connor Bennet spoke from beside the wagon, riding his own horse.

"Yeah, and who's fault is that?" Anette retorted.

Conner chuckled. "Yours, so far as I'm concerned. Such an overreaction to a simple request for you to come with us. Makes me wonder what you've got to hide, Miss Louiselle." He paused. "Or, am I right in now calling you Miss Redcloud? That is, after all, your real name, isn't it?"

Anette shook her head, and looked up to the sky that was now turning lighter as the sun rose. She fought back tears that threatened to fall. "Go to hell."

"I think she's sweet on me, guys."

Anette pressed her lips together, and was silent the rest of the way into Sioux Falls. When they reached the outskirts of the camp, she tried avoiding the glances of the uniformed men who were just starting to get to the day's work. She had a feeling that her arrival had been expected, whether it was voluntary or involuntary. None of them looked surprised to see her walking towards the courthouse in manacles.

Conner took her by the arm and led her upstairs to Bass's quarters. He knocked and listened for permission to enter. When they were given the go-ahead, Connor pulled Anette into the same room in which Anette had met the general for the first time. When they were inside, Anette wrenched her arm away from Conner.

"You did your job, little dog, no need to overcompensate," Anette taunted.

Connor took Anette's chin in her hand and murmured close to her face, "you forget yourself, Redcloud. I can even out the damage done to your face."

"Enough." Monroe spoke from the opposite site of the room, having turned the corner of where his sleeping quarters were. He was tucking his shirt into his pants, and began buttoning his black coat.

Bass approached Anette, and regarded the bruise and split lip. He lifted his hand and touched the side of her face that held the bruise. Anette held the general's gaze.

"Was this really necessary, Conner?" Bass clenched his teeth and shot his son a glare.

"It was either we let her go, or we brought her like you asked."

Bass kept his gaze on Anette, "I'm sorry for the force that was used to bring you here. But I had to confirm for myself what my officers seem to think is true. You're Raymond Redcloud's sister, are you not?"

"You won't get what you want by taking me," Anette said, avoiding the question.

"And what is it that I want?" Bass was amused by this girl who had such spirit.

"My brother takes care of his people. That threatens you and your militia. You want him to stop his attacks on your militia. And I'm just doing you the favor of telling you how this is going to work. He won't stop."

Bass smiled a toothy grin. "You see, I think you're wrong. I think your brother would do just about anything to keep you from harm."

Anette smiled right back, ignoring the pain it caused her split lip, "Ah, but general, you see, I know more than you do."

"I assure you, Miss Redcloud, I know more than you think I do. And I think you'll find that I have a very compelling reason for you to help me in getting your Sioux brothers and sisters out of the way of my militia."

"Try me," Anette's glare was as cold as ice.

"You're a woman of many guises. School teacher. Respected member of the Sioux tribe. The wife of a very powerful man."

Anette's heart began to race. The blood ran out of her face. She said nothing.

"Your arrival in Elk Lodge a year ago would be right along the timeline of someone else very important going missing from Canada. Someone I'm sure is very missed." Bass knew he had her.

"You see, what you're going to do for me is, you're going to get your brother and his men to stand down, or else we're going to level them to the ground." Bass hardened his gaze. "We're here to stay, Anette, and the sooner you accept that, the better this will be for all involved."

"This land is ours, you know," Anette said, defeatedly.

"And it can continue to be. In a way. I just need you to cooperate, and for the Sioux to acknowledge that they are now under the domain of the New Monroe Republic."

Anette felt out of breath. She looked about the room, weighing her options. Return to a miserable life as the wife of a sociopath, or bend under the yoke of another political power that sought to assume sovereignty over her people's land. It was not her finest moment, but the fear of return to Montreal scared her to death.

"'In a way…'" Anette echoed the general's words, chuckling sadly, and shook her head, thinking. "I can't promise he will listen." Anette held the general's gaze. "But if I do this, you have to promise you won't send me back to _him_."

"So long as you hold up your end of the bargain, Anette, I will not send you anywhere."

Relief washed over Anette, and she let out an audible breath that she had no idea she had been holding.

"I know you must be tired, so I will have major Bennet show you to the room that will be yours until our business is concluded. I think also now that Anette is safely within the walls of this building, we can expect she will not manage escape." Bass turned his eyes onto his son. "I think the manacles are far from necessary at this point."

Conner, taking his cue, walked from where he was standing by the door, and used the key from his pocket to unlock Anette's manacles. Flexing her wrists, Anette looked at the ground as she was led from the general's rooms to her own, a mere two doors down. When she was inside her room, she found that it was small, but with amenities she had not expected for someone who was technically a prisoner. A claw-footed tub, a full sized bed, and her own barred window.

The door was closed and locked behind her, and as she sat on the bed that would be hers for who knew how long, she lamented that she was again being used as a political means to an end.


End file.
